


take me, take me as I am

by fragilelittleteacup



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Childhood Memories, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Initial Angst, Kissing, Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Reunions, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tenderness, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, this fic is discontinued until further notice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 21:11:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11654805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilelittleteacup/pseuds/fragilelittleteacup
Summary: It was a lullaby inside him. A tender, beautiful thing, building to a crescendo, singing like liquid bliss in his veins. A sense of homeliness that he had never before felt, bursting to life, as natural and magnificent as the blooming of spring.A soulmate AU based onthisprompt. Title taken from I'm Not A Woman, I'm Not A Man by Gare Du Nord.





	1. meet

Duke fucking hated the concept of soulmates.

Haven was a small place– and, in small places, people tended to find their soulmates fast. Occasionally some poor motherfucker would have to venture into the outside world to locate the love of their live (and have to deal with the complicated bullshit around explaining _what the fuck_ went on in their hometown), but generally the small, tight-knit population provided for speedy connections. Children found their soulmates while playing in sandpits, teenagers met theirs while walking into school on their first day, and any chance encounter at Duke’s tavern could justifiably turn somebody’s life around as their every definition was shifted, renewed, and reborn upon meeting their other halves.

Duke had been convinced he was one of the afore-mentioned motherfuckers.

The name tattooed on his wrist was _Nathan._ Every Nathan he’d ever met had been utterly unremarkable. He’d run the Great Gull for years, met every single goddamn person in Haven, yet felt _nothing._ Every night he went home to a cold, empty boat, occasionally accompanied by fellow unattached lovers, all of whom shared his depressed wretchedness. They usually paired up pretty quick after that, leaving him to desperately seek out other companions; he was constant being reminded, in no uncertain terms, that he was surrounded by starry-eyed lunatics who had found all the love they’d ever need and been gifted with everlasting supernatural contentment.

Everyone around him was _happy._

And he was, to put it mildly, fucking miserable.

He had to deal with all the comments. All the side-glances, the sympathetic crooning, the patronising tips he’d get whenever customers got wind of the fact he was unmatched. The only reason he’d come back was because he’d spent five years roaming as far and wide as he could, to no avail, and figured that Haven was as good a place as any to languish in a creaking, rotting boat and wile out his days as an unwanted, unloved orphan.

He looked at his wrist a lot. Traced the letters with his thumb, wondered who he was. This _Nathan_ person. He didn’t often sleep with men, though he wasn’t opposed to it, but he kept having… dreams. Dreams that couldn’t just be mistaken as sexual fantasies. His head was filled with images of a brown body, arched and lithe, scars stretching across a muscular chest. He didn’t know what they meant, those scars, but he had a feeling they were important. He was _missing_ something. There had to be a reason he was approaching his thirties and had never experienced ‘the connection’ everyone crapped on about constantly.

Funny thing was, he had once been sure that he’d felt it before.

The connection. The spark, the euphoria, the galactically all-important epiphany.

It had been a girl. A girl with sharp eyes and soft cheeks, her face wind-chafed, snowflakes clinging to her wheat-fine eyelashes. She had been sitting at the base of a ski course, half-buried in snow, one arm of her jacket sodden with blood. She’d been staring up at him, confused and disoriented by her fall down the hill, strands of brown hair wafting about her face with the wind. Duke had been unable to move. He should have been freezing, his small body shivering beneath insufficient clothing for the snowy conditions, but he was instead filled with warmth, brimming with sunlight. It was a lullaby inside him. A tender, beautiful thing, building to a crescendo, singing like liquid bliss in his veins. A sense of homeliness that he had never before felt, bursting to life, as natural and magnificent as the blooming of spring.

This was meant to be. This was everything he had ever dreamed of, everything his adolescent mind had ever wanted.

“Natalie!”

A man had come bounding down the hill. It was Chief Wuornos, Duke had realised, seven years old but already well-acquainted with the law.

_Natalie._

Not Nathan.

He watched as Chief Wuornos bundled his daughter into his arms, carrying her off. Natalie looked over at Duke one last time, her eyes filling him with summertime bliss. He had yanked at his jacket sleeve, pulled it up so that he could stare at the name again. _Nathan._

Dismay. Confusion. _Anger._ He felt so sure, so _certain_ that she was the one. She was his soulmate.

He watched her disappear through the snow. Darkness encroached upon him, covering him like a shroud, and he only realised he’d collapsed when the ice against his face started to burn.

She was gone.

She was gone, and it _hurt._

 

 


	2. deny

A week after the skiing incident, Chief Wuornos had called Duke into the station, told him to reveal his wrist. That was taboo. Not allowed. _Wrong._ You didn’t show anybody your tattoo until you'd already met your soulmate. You hid it beneath scarves, watches, bands, or jewellery.

Duke showed him anyway. Chief Wuornos looked down at the tattoo, and several emotions moved across his face, each one as immense and profound as a storm building on the horizon. Finally, he had put his hand over his mouth, closed his eyes. He looked...  _heartbroken_.

Duke had waited a long time for Chief Wuornos to speak.

“…Did I do something wrong, sir?” He dared ask after five minutes, voice small and terrified.

Chief Wuornos had shaken his head, laid a hand very carefully on Duke’s shoulder.

“No, son. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Duke had wanted to ask about Natalie, had wanted to ask why he felt the way that he did. He’d wanted to tell Chief Wuornos, wanted to confess this _feeling,_ wanted to find answers. Adults were frightening and mean, and his own parents were a terrible example of a soulmate bond going rotten, being twisted by the complications of addiction and poverty. But Chief Wuornos had always been kind to him, always been gentle and safe.

“Chief Wuornos, sir, I-”

“It’s okay, Duke,” the Chief had interrupted him, voice soft and oddly understanding, “one day, this will all make sense. I promise. Just… go now, alright. I need some time to think.”

Duke had nodded, had left despite the confusion he felt.

He’d been too young to understand.

 

 


	3. yearn

The rumour around town had been that Chief Wuornos sent his daughter off to live with relatives. People had whispered things about her needing some kind of medical help, and Duke was ashamed and angry to admit he’d _paid attention_ to the rumours. She had been his. Duke had been _so sure._ She had taken up his whole universe, filled his entire world, shifted his every foundation to cater for her existence. He wished she hadn’t. He wished it didn’t matter to him at all, wished he could forget her, wished he wasn’t plagued by dreams of a man he’d never met, a person he couldn’t find no matter where he searched. He could feel a heart beating alongside his own, a soul that filled his chest with meaning and kept him awake at night, drove him to _praying_ for relief.

He drank too much. He got into fights. He supposed that his parents had fucked him up for life, left him too damaged for a soulmate bond. Maybe he was just  _broken._

“I’m going to die alone,” Duke told his empty boat.

Nobody reassured him otherwise.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify: behind the scenes, 'Natalie' has told his father that he is a boy, and identifies as a boy. Garland is faced with irrefutable proof when he sees the name on Duke's arm, and knows he must help his child to transition.
> 
> I love writing trans characters, and am very, VERY excited to continue writing this ♡ I can promise that Nathan will not be mischaracterised just because he is trans. Maintaining character traits when headcanoning characters as being transgender is something I pride myself in doing~ And I promise Duke's suffering will end soon (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧


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